Assassin's Creed: The Chronicles of Troy
by Alphastorm07
Summary: Troy was nothing more than an orphan thief until the Templars took interest in him. Follow the life of another modern Assassin who saved the world. (New summary ideas welcome, I'm crap at writing my own) {Cover art, which I do have permission to use, is by Jophiel Saura, who can be found here: jophiels . deviantart . com/}


I slipped easily through the crowd, keeping watch for a fat wallet to fall in the streets of New York City. As my emerald eyes peered out from under my black hood, I spied a particularly large wallet protruding out from the back pocket of an unsuspecting man. Easy prey. I quickened my pace to catch up to the man, brushing by the people blocking my path. When I got close enough, I faked a trip into him and in the short window of surprise, I slipped his wallet out of his pocket and into mine. With a quick toss of my head, my shaggy dark hair flipped out of my view. I flashed a quick apologetic smile and begin my retreat back into the crowd, the wallet heavy in my pocket. I was going to eat well tonight.

I was nearly out of range when I was suddenly halted. I felt the iron grip of a hand on my shoulder and I heard a man's voice say, "Gotcha."  
His tone was triumphant and malicious, and I knew I'd fallen into some kind of trap. But I never give up. Without saying a word to the man I took off at a sudden dead sprint, catching him off guard long enough for his grip to falter. The sound of people shouting and running footsteps told me that the man was in pursuit.

Now, I'm a fast guy, tall and toned, but even I can't outrun a full-grown man in great shape. I should really learn to size up my targets a bit better. I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck when I saw my ticket out; a nearby high school. Perfect place for a 16 year old boy like me to blend. I jerked left, then darted right towards the school. I left the crowd for only a split second before melting into the steady flow of teens entering the school. I flashed a quick look over my shoulder and found the man wading through the crowd of students, undeterred in his chase. I heaved a sigh of frustration, realizing this man was just as stubborn as I was.

I darted around a corner into what appeared to be the commons. Wasting no time I darted towards the nearest set of stairs. I took the steps two at a time and reached the top quickly, giving me a chance to catch my breath and watch for the man. Not long after I'd reached the top however, the man came into view, and he had some friends with him this time. Not one, but 6 men dressed in matching suits and dark sunglasses were after me now. One of them spotted me and pointed me out while pulling a gun from the inside of his jacket, causing everyone in the area to scream and runaway. I quickly spun around and took off, but not after hearing a loud bang and the sound of something exploding over my head.

I agilely weaved my way through the panicking students. Just when I thought I was gone, I came to a dead end. To make matters worse, all 6 of my new friends rushed into the hallway, cornering me.

One man stepped forward, "You're a hard man to get a hold of, Troy," he said with a sly grin.

I took a step back, surprised that he knew my name, "What do you want with me?"

He pulled out a handgun and began to examine it, "We don't want you, per say, simply your body," he chuckled.

"Weren't you shooting at me?"

He held his hands out and shrugged, "I didn't say we needed you alive," and with that, he pointed the gun at me.

But before he could pull the trigger, two of his men dropped. Behind them stood a hooded man with a black cloak and bloody wrist blades.

Quick as lightning my assailant turned the gun on the hooded man, but not before he was knocked over by a flying corpse. I could easily tell that the hooded man had them out classed, even when he was out numbered. A few well placed stabs, punches, and kicks later we're surrounded by 6 dead/unconscious well-dressed men.

"Who-," I began, but I was interrupted by my savior.

"Come," and with that, he spun around strode down the hall. He led me outside the school to a sleek, black motorcycle. Without so much as a word, he threw me a helmet and jumped on the bike.

"Hold on," he muttered, and took off weaving through the cars.

In about 15 minutes we arrived at a heavily guarded parking garage just outside the infamous _Abstergo Industries_. We pulled into a parking space alongside identical motorcycles. I set my helmet on a rack clearly designated for them and I followed him to an elevator. Instead of pressing a button he activated one of his wrist blades and inserted it into a key hole, automatically sending the elevator down.

The elevator opened into a white hallway, and I followed him through the winding passages to an office. The office was simple, nothing more than a desk, computer, and a shelf with some books on it.

He eased himself with a grunt into a swivel chair behind the desk, mumbling something about being too old for this. Next he threw his hood off, revealing his face. He was a middle-aged man, brown hair slightly greyed from stress. His face was stern, but kind, his brown eyes telling many stories of hardship. A scar running through the right of his lip cut straight through his goatee. He gestured for me to sit, then began to speak.

"Troy," he said as I sat down, "No last name, zero medical history, no school enrollment, no known relatives. All I have is your name."

How did he know all that? "I've never done any of that stuff, and I never knew my parents, sir," I said nervously.

"Desmond," he said with a wave of his hand, "Call me Desmond. We've been trying to find you for about 3 months now. Unfortunately, our enemies got to you first. You were just lucky I spotted you while out on patrol before things got too ugly."

"They said they wanted my body. Do you know why that is?"

"Not exactly. We knew they were tracking you, but we didn't know what for. Quite frankly, I don't really care. As long as they don't have you for whatever it is they needed, that's good enough for me."

"That's all well and good," I said, "but I'm still just as confused as I was when I got here."

"All your questions will be answered in time," he replied, "First thing's first though: who we are. We are the Assassin Brotherhood. We're a group of highly skilled agents with the sole purpose of retaining mankind's free-will. The men you encountered today call themselves Templars, but their goals are all but holy. The Templars would like nothing more than to see the world enslaved to them. It's been a long fight stretching many centuries, most I've witnessed myself. But I think we're close to extinguishing them for good, closer than we've ever been. Now I ask, will you join us?"

His question caught me off guard, "How do you know that I'll be useful to you?"

"Well," he replied, "if the Templars wanted you badly enough to send six agents after you, you must be important. If you don't join us, they'll find you again, and next time you won't be so lucky."

He had a point. If joining the Brotherhood would get me training like he had, I wouldn't have any problems with gangsters or Templars anymore. I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do, right?

"I'm in," I said, sounding more sure of myself than I was.


End file.
